Candy Hearts
by chizry
Summary: There are thirty reasons to love Valentine's day in a Sweethearts box. It takes only about ten of them to convince her. Oneshot, Sandle.


**Title:** Candy Hearts  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Disclaimer:** The characters of CSI are owned by CBS and Alliance Atlantis-as for the candy hearts, I don't know but credit to their sickly sugary products.

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Greg Sanders popped a white sugary candy heart into his mouth, letting the sweet taste melt upon his tongue. Holding out the carton so that she could see the multicolored pastel bits of sweets, he offered, "Want one, Sara?"

Not even bothering to look up from her case file, the brunette shook her head. "No thanks, Greg, busy right now," Sara Sidle muttered as she meticulously flipped through the pages of a report.

"Okay. Suit yourself." He threw another one up in the air and caught it with his tongue-perfectly-beaming at his talent. "Are you sure?"

She finally set down the papers she was sorting through and glared crossly at him. "What is so…great," Sara gestured at the hanging cupids and baskets of red-and-pink covered chocolates, "about Valentine's Day?"

Just giving her that annoyingly cute grin of his, he winked. "I've got about two dozen reasons right here," boasted Greg, holding up the Sweethearts cardboard box like a first-place trophy.

Shooting him a look that said "prove-it", Sara crossed her arms across her chest, incredulously raising an eyebrow.

He slid a piece of candy over to her in response.

"So fine," his friend read aloud as she picked it up. "Thanks for the compliment, Greg. But really-" her words were cut off by more pieces flicked in her direction. "Cutie pie. Smile." Corners of her mouth turning slightly upwards, Sara's expression was a mix of amusement and flattery. "What's all this?"

Greg gently placed a pink candy heart in the palm of her hand.

"Sweet talk." At this, Sara's mouth curved into a closed-lipped smirk. "As if."

Laughing, Greg held up the heart that mimicked her words, and then tossed it expertly into her hands. "Eat your words, Sidle." teased the spiky-haired CSI as she sucked on the candy.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Sara spoke. "That's only four reasons, Greggo. If I remember, you said there was thirty."

Eyes twinkling mischievously, Greg nodded. "Right you are, Miss Sidle. And…voila! The fifth reason." Plucking a purple piece and a yellow piece out of the box, he held it out to her. "Hug me. Two thousand hugs."

At this, Sara openly laughed-just the effect he was looking for. "That's cheesy," she complained good-naturedly, lips transforming into her trademark gap-toothed grin. Nevertheless, she leaned over and offered his shoulders a quick squeeze. "There you go. And shut up, I'm not hugging you another one thousand nine hundred ninety-nine times," joked the brunette as Greg opened his mouth to no doubt protest. "Get hugs from everybody else."

"Nu-uh. Only you." He handed her the heart with his last words on it.

Rolling her eyes, she was touched that even if this whole idea was a little tacky, he was trying to make her feel better. "What more do you want from me?" Sara demanded amiably.

"Kiss me. One kiss," said the candies in his hand.

Without a second thought-maybe it was the flirty mood she was in, she didn't really know-Sara planted a featherlike one on his lips, tasting the sugar coating them.

It was chaste, innocently light, but small sparks running between them hinted at the chance of possible something deeper, more momentous. Before any of them had the chance to explore that realm, Nick walked in.

"Hey you two," the cowboy said absently, clearly not noticing the scene that he inadvertently walked into. Automatically, Greg and Sara sprung apart, guilty looks upon their faces. "Grissom wants you guys in the layout room."

Heavy heart on their minds, they obliged, following their colleague to their awaiting supervisor.

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"Finally. End of shift," Sara mumbled disjointedly as she trudged wearily into the locker room. With their case running all day on hot leads, she and Greg hardly had a chance to talk-and when they did, it was only on evidence or on suspects.

Turning the combination lock on her locker, she stepped back in surprise when a large red envelope fell out. Picking it up, she stared at it for a second-it was suspiciously lumpy, bulging a bit on the top. Sara slit it open after making sure no-one was around, a shocked expression over her features as she pulled out a heavy white card.

On it was a question mark decorated with "Miss me" hearts. The lone heart on the bottom, though, made her smile.

"P.S. Page me."


End file.
